With Me
by scarlet79
Summary: Just an idea that came to me and wouldn't leave. Jo convinces the brothers to let her go on a hunt, but when Ellen finds out she is far from happy with the idea. Still in its very early stages as a story, so this summary will probably change as things unravel. Rated T for language/themes.
1. Chapter 1

WITH ME

Chapter 1

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><p>She infuriated him, God, so much.<p>

Especially right at that moment, standing behind the bar with her hands on her hips and a challenge in her eyes, daring him to refuse her request.

"No," he said. "Too dangerous."

Her jaw clenched, she took a step forward. "I don't care," she replied, and he was even more irritated that he was actually considering it even though he knew it was a bad idea. "I can handle myself."

Looking away, he found his brother's eyes on him and he scowled even more darkly. That kid could win Saddest Expression of the year.

"I said 'no'. Your mother would kill me..."

She rolled her brown doe-eyes and jumped up on the bar, her legs almost knocking over his beer as she swiveled to sit right in front of him. She was dressed in jeans and a black tank top, and even that upset him because she looked just as pretty in those clothes as she would in a dress. Why couldn't she have been born with a hump, or an extra finger? Maybe then all this would be easier. He looked at her face; she was scowling at him. He wanted to be mad, but she actually looked cute like that. Her lips looked like a heart when she pouted.

"You're a jerk, you know that?" She asked him. "You can't make me stay here."

"You wanna bet?"

"I'm going with you."

He shook his head and took a swig of his beer, then growled as she swiped it from him and downed half of the remainder in a single gulp. Snatching it back, he frowned as she giggled, his level of irritation once more close to homicidal.

"C'mon, Dean," she said, her voice a whine that was almost sharp enough to make him wince. "It's just a Wendigo."

_Dammit,_ he thought as she hooked her feet around his stool and slipped off the bar onto his lap, her arms looping around his neck reminding him of the noose her mother would surely use on him if anything happened to her.

"Jo..." he groaned in embarrassment as he spied Sam duck his head and hide a smirk. Unsure of which god to curse for this, he played it safe and mentioned them all.

She leaned closer to his face and he could smell the beer on her breath. _His_ beer. That should have pissed him off but it didn't. Maybe it was the fact that her perfume was filling his head, or maybe it was the alcohol, but right then all he wanted to do was press his lips against hers, let his hands drift up under her flimsy top...

Jo gave him a saucy look. "Whatsa matter, Dean? Worried I'll kill it before you can?"

"No." He let his hands hang down at his sides to keep them as far from the temptation of her perfect skin as possible. "I'm worried about what Ellen would do if the Wendigo got the upper hand." _Or if she saw us right now_, he added mentally.

Her fingers were on his cheek then, trailing through the stubble down to his jaw. As they zeroed in on the sensitive spot just below his ear, she murmured, "I'm not a kid anymore, Dean."

He shut his eyes. "I know."

Oh, God, did he know. Unfortunately, he also knew where Ellen hid her guns. All fifteen of them. And they were all in the very room he currently occupied.

"Besides, I know you and Sam will protect me."

His eyes still closed, he nodded. "Always."

Her fingertips brushed his lips and he nearly lost his mind. "Then just say 'yes'."

Unable to stop himself, he nodded again. "Okay."

Beside him, Sam shook his head. That was far too easy. Either the girl had huge mojo to be able to pull that off or Dean was already drunk enough to be having trouble using his better judgment. Whichever it was, he'd caved, and their party just went from a comfortable two to a crowded three. However, Sam also knew Jo fairly well. She wouldn't have given up, anyway.

"Really?" Jo asked, and Dean nodded a third time. Sam thought he was beginning to look like a bobble-headed doll.

"Yeah."

Loosing a soft squeal, she slid off of Dean and bolted for the door to the back room. "I'll go get my stuff!"

Hazel eyes fluttering open, Dean paused to contemplate the look on his brother's face and then scowled.

"What the hell just happened?"

Sam chuckled and patted the elder Winchester's shoulder, the only form of comfort he knew how to give at that moment. "She whammied you, man."

He thought as much. Jumping up from his seat, he rushed after her. "Dammit! Jo!"

She was already coming out of the back, her duffel slung over her shoulder. She'd put on the jacket that had once belonged to her Daddy, the one Ellen had kept for her all those years, and a revolver was tucked into the waistband of her jeans. And damn if that jacket didn't fit her just right, except for sleeves that were just a tad too long.

"Jo, this is a bad idea. I didn't..." He gulped and rubbed a thumb across his forehead, which was just beginning to ache. "I shouldn't have said yes."

She shrugged. "Too late."

Dean looked to Sam, who simply lifted his shoulders as if to say _You got yourself into this mess. No way I'm helping you out of it_ and shot his brother a sour glare. _Thanks, Sammy._

"Look, Jo..." he began, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

"No, you look," she interrupted. "I told you, I'm a big girl. I'll be fine."

"I never said..."

"I can't just sit here staring at four walls and a busted pool table forever, Dean. I want - no, I _need_ - to do something. I need to help."

"This isn't a Thanksgiving turkey hunt," Dean argued. "These things are big, they're fast, and they're deadly."

She narrowed her eyes at him then, and said, "You think this is my first hunt, don't you?"

He blinked. "It's...it's not?"

"Not even close." Stepping close to him again, she dropped her duffel at their feet and put her hands against his chest, feeling his heart thumping beneath his t-shirt. "So stop treating me like I'm gonna break into pieces, and let's go."

Again he looked at Sam. He nodded, an ever-so-slight downward tip of his head. Feeling outnumbered, Dean cursed inwardly. "Fine," he said aloud, "but if anything happens to you, I'm telling Ellen you just showed up."

Her lips parted in a beaming grin and he hated himself even more for going along with this plan, even as he imagined kissing that smirk off her face. "Deal."

"Let's go, before I change my mind," Dean grumbled, grabbing Jo's duffel and heading for the door.

As he popped the trunk and dumped her bag inside, he pondered how the hell this had happened. Then, he recalled the feel of her fingers on his skin, and he knew.

She had used his feelings for her against him. But had she known, or just guessed? Another thought crossed his mind: how many other guys had she pulled this on? Was he the only one? He shook his head. There were plenty of young guys Jo's age within a ten mile radius of the Roadhouse. Though he hoped Ellen had put the fear of God into each of them, Jo had probably perfected that little trick on them first, maybe in hopes of this very moment.

He considered her statement about this not being her first hunt. Jo Harvelle, the petite blond with the huge brown eyes, was a competent Hunter? Well, he supposed it was possible, seeing as how her father was a Hunter, though he and Ellen had tried hard to keep their daughter's life as normal as they could. His own father had done just the opposite - Sam and Dean had been thrown into Hunting without a thought as to whether they wanted it or not - and as a result any chance at a normal life had gone out the window. Sam had tried, once, but ultimately it had ended in tragedy and so he'd slowly given up on the idea and joined his brother on the road.

And now, here was Jo, disregarding her mother's wishes to follow in her father's footsteps, and Dean was letting her do it. No, he wasn't just letting her, he was actually _helping_ her. He hated himself for that, and he was pretty sure Ellen would hate him when she found out.

Speaking of Ellen...

"Hey, Jo," he called as he slammed the trunk and walked toward the driver's seat of his sleek black Impala.

"Yeah?" She asked from the middle of the back seat.

"Where is your mother? And who's running the Roadhouse with you gone?"

"Oh, she's at Bobby's, and I woke up Ash to keep things up in case someone stops by." She smirked and added, "Which they shouldn't because only jokers like you two drop down for a beer at four thirty in the morning."

His lips twitched downward. "Ha ha. What's she doing at Bobby's?"

"Hell if I know. She got a call from him two days ago and then all of a sudden she was packing a bag and telling me to hold things down at the Roadhouse."

"She never said what it was about?"

Jo shrugged. "Nope." She let her gaze drift toward the back of Sam's head and then back to Dean's face. "Can we ponder my mother's weird habits _on_ the road? That Wendigo won't stick round the same spot forever."

Dean stuffed down his annoyance at her and slid into his seat, the sound of his door shutting a loud echo in the otherwise empty parking lot. As he started the engine he glanced up into the rearview and asked, "You sure Ash can handle it? He's not exactly the brightest bulb..."

She grinned. "He'll be fine. Ash has been around bars since he was born."

"Yeah, but he's...well I don't wanna say scrawny, but..."

"Don't need to be big. He knows where the guns are, and everyone who comes in knows he knows. If they wanna keep from getting any extra holes they'll behave."

Leaning forward, she rested her arms on the back of the front seat, and Dean bit his lip as he felt her breath on his ear. "Thanks for bringing me along, Dean. You won't regret it."

"I better not," he replied, a little more gruffly than he'd meant to be. To make up for it, he caught her gaze in the mirror again and softly said, "You should get some sleep. It's gonna be a long ride."

The way she lifted the corner of her gorgeous mouth was going to give him crazy dreams for the next month at least.

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><p>TBC...<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

WITH ME

Chapter 2

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><p>"Dammit, Jo!" Dean cried as he slipped down the embankment to the edge of the stream, not caring that his jeans were getting ripped and dirty in his haste to get to her. Sam was making his way down as well but was choosing to be a little more careful, hanging on to the saplings to keep himself upright. At the bottom of the gully, Jo lay dazed and bleeding, her right arm bearing three slashes and her face streaked with dirt from the fall. The Wendigo lay dead not ten feet from her, or at least what remained of its burnt corpse. Its eyes were open, staring blankly at the sky, its charred, elongated limbs spread out in a snow-angel pose.<p>

When he first reached her Dean thought she was unconscious, but as he brushed her leaf-strewn hair out of her eyes he saw that she was awake and luckily enough had managed to avoid a concussion. Looking her over, he breathed a sigh of relief as her only wound turned out to be her arm, and the cuts there were too shallow to have nicked an artery.

"I knew this would happen," he muttered under his breath as Sam finally skidded to a stop beside them, and Jo shot him a dark look.

"Shut up," she said, "and help me up."

Though he wanted to shout at her some more, he merely set his jaw, grabbed her left hand and yanked her to her feet, ignoring the growl of disapproval she sent his way. _Be mad at me if you want,_ he wanted to yell at her. I_'m not the one with scratches on my arm and soaking wet sneakers because I didn't listen._ When he was sure she was able to walk unassisted he turned and started climbing back up the hill, his boots slipping on the damp leaves littering the forest floor.

Jo watched him for a moment and then looked at Sam. "So, he's mad, huh?"

Sam shrugged and gestured for her to go before him, and as she clawed her way up the steep embankment he said, "A little. I think it's mostly 'cause he was worried about you, though."

She thought about that for a while. She had been slightly impulsive, confronting the Wendigo on her own, unsure of whether the boys had even been anywhere close by. Shuddering, she remembered the sound of the creature's howl filling the air, the pain she'd felt as its claws opened the gashes on her arm. Okay, so she'd been really lucky Dean had gotten there when he did and put a flaming arrow between its eyes, and she'd only walked away with an injured arm and jeans soaked up to her knees.

They finally made it up to the car, Dean leaning against her trunk and Sam sort of pacing around in front of him. Jo went to the passenger side and opened the door, but stopped when Dean asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

She stared at him. "Getting in."

"Not with that arm, you're not," he grumbled. "No way you're bleeding on her seat."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Her?"

"Jo," Sam's voice, full of warning, reached her. She caught the short shake of his head and knew he was trying to tell her not to push Dean any farther. Though it was exactly what she wanted to do at that moment, she took the hint and bit her tongue.

"Okay, so you got a first-aid kit laying around, then?" She asked instead as Sam wandered a distance away.

Dean nodded. "Trunk. Just gimme a minute."

It took him exactly three minutes according to Jo's watch, but at last he had recovered and pushed away from the trunk, digging his keys out of his pocket. He popped the trunk open and shoved their bags to one side, then pulled up a flap camoflaged to look just like the rest of the trunk floor and removed a black box from the compartment beneath it.

"Sit," he commanded, pointing to the Impala's bumper, and she silently obeyed, understanding that this was not the time for one of her snarky comments. Dean dug through the box for a moment and pulled out a roll of gauze, medical tape and a bottle of peroxide. These he set inside the trunk within reach, then set the box aside and reached into his pocket for his folding knife. A little nervous, Jo watched as he flipped it open, but he only put it down beside the peroxide and then turned toward her with empty hands. Gently he took her arm and inspected the wounds across her bicep, a soft sigh escaping him.

"Bleeding's stopped," he said, more to himself than to her. Then, he reached for the bottle of peroxide, unscrewed the cap, and held it ready to pour over her skin. "This is gonna sting like a bitch."

"I know," she replied softly.

Tipping the bottle further, he let the clear liquid wash over the gashes, watching as it foamed white wherever a scab had yet to form. Jo drew her lips into a thin line as she struggled against the urge to cry out. It did indeed sting, feeling like a thousand tiny needles piercing her already raw skin, and when she dared to look up at Dean his eyes held a silent apology. He seemed upset, but not angry, as if he felt bad that he was hurting her. When the bottle was empty he tossed it back in the trunk and wrapped the gauze around her arm, overlapping it several times until each wound was fully covered. He held it about three inches away from her arm and gestured for her to take it, which she did willingly as he picked up the knife and sliced through the thin material, then taped the gauze in place and tested it to be sure it would not come loose. Satisfied, he stood back and admired his work, and she stood up and carefully moved her arm both up and down and back and forth, happy when all she felt was a deep ache in her muscles.

"You were lucky," he said after a long silence. His tone was scolding, but underneath it she could hear the fear Sam had alluded to earlier.

She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Next time I tell you to wait, you listen. Okay?"

"Okay. Dean, I..." she suddenly stopped and narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Next time?"

"Yeah," he replied. "If you're gonna do this, you gotta start usin' your head a little more. That means listening to people who've been Hunting longer than you. Like me and Sam."

"But..."

"'Cause we're just trying to protect you," he went on, his green eyes locked onto hers. "I'm terrified of Ellen, but I'm even more afraid of watching you become a Wendigo's dinner. Don't make me do it, Jo."

"I won't."

"Promise me."

She frowned. "What?"

"Promise me," he said again. "Promise you won't get all rebellious and take off without backup, acting like you can take on any creature all on your own, because I swear to God, Jo, if you do and some other thing rips you up I will bring you back just to kill you myself!"

"I promise, Dean," she assured him, sudden tears springing to her eyes. "I won't do it again."

He stared at her tear-filled gaze for a moment and then let out a shaky breath before pulling her against his chest, his large hand resting against her blond head. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I just...you scared the hell outta me back there."

"I didn't mean to."

"I know," he admitted.

A phone began to ring from inside the Impala, only able to be heard because Jo had left the door open. She stepped out of his embrace and wiped her eyes, and he paused only a moment before going to answer the phone.

"Dammit," he muttered, seeing the caller's ID. Shooting a dangerous glare at Jo, he flipped the phone open and in his best glad-to-hear-you voice said, "Hey, Ellen!"

"Don't you 'hey' me, boy," Ellen Harvelle snarled. "Where is my daughter?

"I'm not..."

"I know she's with you," she kept going as if he hadn't spoken. "If you lie to me I swear to all that's holy I'll track you and your giraffe of a brother down and..."

"Whoa, Ellen!" Dean interrupted, far from eager to hear her finish that threat. "She's with us, and she's fine."

"And just why the hell is she with you?" She muttered something under her breath like "Damned Winchesters", and he suppressed the urge to slam the phone against the ground repeatedly.

"Uh, well," he began, gritting his teeth, "she heard we were going after a Wendigo and I guess she just couldn't pass up the chance..."

"Are you crazy?" She exploded. "A Wendigo?!"

"I told her it was dangerous, but you know how she is."

"You're damn right I do! She's my daughter, I've been dealin' with her rebellious little ass since she could walk."

"Right. Well, she's fine. Got a little scratch, but other than that..."

A string of curses so long and colorful even Dean blushed came pouring forth then, and he held the phone away from his ear like he expected Ellen to burst through it and strangle him. Sam had been watching the whole time, and now he came forward and plucked the phone out of his brother's grasp with a huff. Putting it to his ear, he walked further into the clearing, away from Dean and Jo.

"Ellen, listen," Dean heard him say, his voice calm but loud enough to be heard over her cursing. "Everything's okay, I promise..."

From where he stood at the Impala, Dean watched his brother do what he did best and mediate the situation. It almost seemed like a ritual - Dean would be brutally honest and get 'em upset, and then Sam would come in and smooth everything over. It worked best when they were on a hunt and needed to talk to a witness; Sam's compassion would immediately put them at ease after Dean's gruff demeanor, and they became virtual wells of information when they might normally have kept quiet in the thought that no one would believe what they saw or heard.

Finally, Sam came back to the car, having ended the call. Handing the phone to Dean, he blew out a breath, and Jo asked, "What'd she say?"

"That if we don't get you home in the next 24 hours our heads will be mounted over the bar as a warning to others about screwing with the Harvelles."

She winced. "Didn't you tell her it was my idea?"

Sam shook his head. "Wouldn't have helped. She was pretty pissed."

"How'd she find out I was gone, anyway?"

Dean shrugged. "Ash called her?"

"No," Jo assured him. "He understood why I need to get away sometimes. He wouldn't rat on me like that."

"Well, however she did it, we should get moving. I like my head where it is."

Sam nodded his agreement and started for the passenger side as Dean shut the trunk and headed for the driver's seat. Upset at having her adventure end so abruptly, Jo rolled her eyes and made a derisive sound in her throat but then climbed into the back seat and crossed her arms over her chest.

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><p>Dean let her pout halfway through Kansas. He would have let her pout the rest of the way to the Roadhouse except Sam gave him that look he got when the silence grew too thick and things needed to be said. He tried to shake his head and blow him off but Sam lowered his eyebrows and glared at him, so he huffed and turned down the classic rock blaring from the radio.<p>

"How's your arm?" He asked lamely.

Jo stared back at him in the rear-view for a moment as if asking if he was serious. When he didn't look away, she rolled her eyes and said, "Fine."

"Guess whatever business Ellen had with Bobby is done."

"Yep."

He cut his eyes again to Sam, who just widened his own gaze and then shifted it to Jo and back at Dean. Dean's jaw muscles twitched.

"Jo, listen. You did good back there, and we'd be lucky to have you. But I really don't wanna be on your mom's bad side. We need her and the Roadhouse, so if that means we have to drive you back, well..."

Her eyes were shiny, but her lips were set in a firm line. "I get it, okay, Dean? I'm an adult now, but apparently I still don't get to make my own decisions. I can't be trusted out there by myself."

"That's not true," he argued. "You need work, but besides that you're a hell of a tough chick."

"Yeah? Why you couldn't tell my mom that?"

"Ellen's just trying to protect you," Sam put in, ignoring her last question. "She lost your dad on a hunt - she doesn't want it to happen to you, too."

"It won't," she muttered, flouncing back against the seat.

"Well, that's a talk for you and your mom to have."

"You could've taken my side just a little, Dean."

He huffed a sigh. "Look, maybe you're right. But you need more training before you go on any more hunts. Learning on the job can get you killed, quick. So stay at the Roadhouse, get some fighting lessons. Maybe Ellen will see that you can take care of yourself, maybe not. But at least whatever happens will be just between you."

Her eyes turned hurt. Softly, she said, "I thought you said..."

"I said 'next time'. That means next time we're together on a hunt."

Her mouth hung open for a moment as if she wished to reply, but then she shut it and turned to stare out the window, watching trees and meadows speed past. Dean felt Sam's eyes on him, but he couldn't face him right then. He could almost hear the judgment in his brother's heavy sigh, and he understood what it meant. Dean had tried to fix things, but only ended up making it all worse.

Right or not, Ellen had demanded they return Jo to her, so that's what they were going to do. Whatever happened after that, at least they could say they'd respected her wishes and quenched her anger.

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><p>TBC...<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

WITH ME

Chapter 3

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><p>Ellen was waiting in front of the Roadhouse when the Impala growled into the parking lot, her face pinched into a frown that made the wrinkles in her forehead look even deeper than they were. Just beyond her in the doorway they could see the dimly-illuminated form of Ash standing against the frame, his shoulders hunched as if he feared the moment she would turn around and see him. As Dean shut off the engine Ellen crossed her arms and stared daggers at him through the windshield, and he whistled through his teeth.<p>

"She's pissed, all right."

Sam caught her eye and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it died before even reaching his lips. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he popped his door and got out, then pulled his seat forward so Jo could climb out. As Dean came around the front of the car to join them she took the outstretched hand Sam offered and stepped out, carefully avoiding the seatbelt that threatened to tangle around her ankle .

They hadn't taken more than two steps before Ellen was stalking toward the trio, and Dean had to try hard to keep his pace from slowing to a stop. Even Sam, tall as he was, seemed to be slouching under her pinning gaze.

"Joanna," Ellen called, her eyes hard, "you better have a good reason for runnin' off with these two."

"I had to, Momma," Jo replied. "I couldn't sit still in there anymore."

"You left poor Ash all alone. What were you thinkin'?"

"You left _me_ here."

She saw the bandage around Jo's arm then, and her eyes darted to Dean's face. "This the 'scratch' you tried to make out to nothing, Winchester?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Her frown deepened. "More'n a scratch, don't you think?" Looking to her daughter, she said, "Better hope it don't leave a scar. Scars on girls ain't pretty."

"You have one," Jo snapped, and Sam and Dean collectively held their breath. Jo had more of her mother in her than just her hair color. She also had her mouth, and that could make for some big trouble.

"Ellen..." Sam stepped in, once more trying to be the voice of reason, but she would have none of it. Turning on her heel, she regarded him with a dark look.

"Don't. Even. Try."

He opened his mouth to try anyway, but Dean sent an elbow into his ribs.

"We're really sorry, Ellen," Dean said, his face contrite. "We never should've let her come with us without asking you, first."

At first it seemed she would deck him; her hands curled into balls at her sides and her breath grew ragged in her chest. But then something in her gaze shifted, and she gave a curt nod. "You're damn right you shouldn't have. Bad enough I gotta keep her from bein' pawed at in the bar; don't need some creature takin' swings at her, too." She gestured at the bandage again. "But I guess it's too late for that, now, ain't it?"

Jo rolled her eyes. "It's not that bad, Mom. Dean patched it up."

_Oh, geez,_ he thought. _Don't drag me back into this._

"Well, ain't that special," Ellen hissed as she clomped back to the front door, ignoring both Ash skittering out of the way and the brothers following behind her. "He drags you out into the middle of nowhere, lets you get scraped up and then is nice enough to clean up after himself."

Indignant, Dean rushed to get in front of her, his eyes dark with anger. "Now, wait a minute," he growled. "First of all, I didn't drag Jo anywhere. Coming with us was all her idea. I didn't think it was safe but she...well..." No way was he telling her exactly how Jo had convinced him. Thinking fast, he continued, "...she told me it wasn't her first hunt and she'd be okay."

"You told them you'd been hunting?" Ellen asked her daughter, her eyes wide not with anger now but fear.

Jo nodded. "Yeah."

"But why..."

"Because I have been out before. I just never told you."

"Dammit, Jo!" Ellen cried, and Dean understood that particular feeling all too well. "You can't!"

"I can!" Jo shouted. "You just wanna keep me here, locked up in this, this crappy place forever!"

"I can't lose you, Joanna. Your Daddy died in that life. I won't lose my only child that way!"

"You're right. You won't. I made it okay this time, and I'll be okay next time."

"You can't know that, Jo," Sam finally put in. "None of us can be sure we'll make it out of a hunt."

Ellen's anger was back, and she pointed first at Dean, then Sam. "I tried to warn her about you two," she spat. "Your daddy was trouble, and rotten apples don't fall far."

"Don't say that about them!" Jo shouted at her. "They saved my life out there!"

"It's 'cause of them you got into that mess!"

"No it wasn't. I begged them to go." She shook her head. "God, Mom. You make it sound like they grabbed me and threw me in the trunk or something."

Her mother clenched her jaw tight. "I'm done arguing with you, girl. Get up to your room and think long and hard about what you did today."

"I'm not a child!" Jo screamed. "You can't lock me in my room anymore!"

Before anyone could move, she sprinted for the front door and ran out into the night. Dean followed after her, but she had grown up there and knew just where to go to disappear. By the time he reached the doorway she was gone without a trace. He stood on the porch, his stomach in knots, and called her name. Only his own voice echoed back at him. Closing his eyes, he tried to listen for the rustle of the grass, for footsteps on the gravel, but all he heard was the rhythmic chirping of crickets and distant thunder.

This was not how he had imagined all this going. Drop the girl off, get a tongue lashing from her mother, and then drive away. No muss, no fuss. Maybe a few angry words and an empty threat to shoot them next time they came around, but not this.

Hearing a noise behind him, Dean turned around and saw something he never thought possible. Ellen was standing there in the doorway, tears pouring down her face and her arms wrapped tightly around herself in an attempt to keep her broken heart together. Behind her stood Sam with that damned puppy dog look in his eyes, but as her grief consumed her and she slipped down the door frame in a crouch, he came forward and laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"We'll get her back," he promised. "We'll find her." Looking to Dean, he said, "Right, Dean?"

Dean nodded. "Right."

Among her sobs and hitching breaths, she said, "She's all I got. I can't lose my baby."

Sam crouched beside her, his eyes finding hers. "You won't, Ellen. You won't lose her."

Glancing into the Roadhouse, Dean called, "Ash!"

The younger man peered around the corner. "Yep?"

"Take Ellen inside and get her a cup of coffee."

As Sam helped her to her feet, she wiped at her eyes and snorted. "Gonna take more than that."

Dean shook his head. "Sorry. I need you sober, Ellen. Let Ash take care of you until we get back, okay?"

Tears welled in her eyes again. "If something happens to her..."

"Nothing's gonna happen," Sam assured her. "She's just upset. We'll get her to come back soon."

"I never shoulda yelled. She's just so stubborn."

Dean nodded. "It's okay. Just try to relax."

When he was sure she was being looked after, he and Sam stepped out into the rapidly cooling night air, stopping on the porch to collect their thoughts.

"Any idea where she would've gone?" Sam asked, his eyes surveying the parking lot and the scrub beyond.

Dean shook his head. "I didn't see which way she ran."

"Think we should split up? Cover more ground?"

It made sense, Dean knew; there were ample hiding places in all four directions, and she knew the area better than they did. She could have been almost a mile away by now.

"Yeah. Guess we better." He glanced around and pointed over the Impala's hood, where the gravel slowly faded into the hard-packed dirt of scrubland. "You go that way."

After making sure his cell phone was on and had signal, Sam started off in the direction Dean had indicated. Dean paused another minute, staring up at the stars in the clear night sky. A plea without words filled his whole body, an unnameable sense of fear and heartache washed over him and stole his breath, wrenching tears from the corners of his green eyes. He wanted to cry and shout and fall to his knees, but instead he only grabbed onto the porch's wooden railing and waited for the trembling to stop. It seemed like hours before his strength finally returned, but as soon as it did he headed off toward the left side of the parking lot, a prayer for Jo's safety on the tip of his tongue.

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><p>TBC...<p> 


End file.
